


Paternity Testing

by Jupiterra



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 10:17:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17764889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jupiterra/pseuds/Jupiterra
Summary: Sweden decided to get several paternity tests done. They all came back positive.





	Paternity Testing

Sweden was nervous as he waited. In his hands were stacks of papers, all paternity tests, all positive. It had all started as a drunk joke. Denmark just made Sweden so angry, and the pot brownies Netherlands left didn't help. So here Sweden was at the end of a long expensive dare, looking like a fool. 

The bet, of course, was how many children Sweden accidentally sired in his crazy viking days. You spent enough time at sea, you got _needy_ and any hole would do. The voyages being watered down with ale at both ends didn't help.

Sweden was just surprised at how many results were positive. Finland, dear stubborn yet wonderful Tino, entered the meeting room. He sat next to Sweden with a neutral smile, curious. “Those are the results?”

Sweden pushed up his glasses and nodded. He handed over the papers, knowing Finland was no better. There was a hushed moment, then a cluck of the tongue. “Even _him_. Well ...”

The Nation-who-would-not be named entered incredibly late for the meeting. Like always, childish Russia dropped in a chair with the delicacy of a freight train. “My apologies comrades, silly man would not give me his parking space.”

As America predictably picked a fight with Russia over nothing, Tino whispered “There's no doubt then, Russia is your...”

“Yes.” Sweden muttered tightly, embarrassed. Russia was without doubt his son, and the giant of a swede had no idea how to process it.

“Canada is... Oh, I see.” Finland was quieted by his own results mixed in. Canada was very likely Norway or Finland's son. America's murky origins were an orgy of European DNA that even science struggled to deal with. Greenland was the only one of the lot not related to Sweden at all.

“Should we say something?” Finland whispered.

“No. Gods no.”

The unwanted guest of honour had keen hearing. Russia cracked a manic smile, over in seconds. “What's this little treasure?” he greeted coldly. He took the papers before either country could stop him. He burst into laughter at most things, discarding them over his shoulder. Sweden hurriedly gathered the papers, desperate for others not to see them.

Russia paused at the last three pages, seeming to freeze up. Hastily checking his own papers, Sweden confirmed the horror of this. Russia was seeing his own paternity results. Shit. _Shit_. Russia looked to Sweden with wide scared eyes, backing up slightly.

“Give me the papers.”

Russia made some sort of noise, dropping them. He then took a flask out of his coat and drained it as he left the room. Sweden could only pray nothing bad would come of this.

00000

Weeks passed by without incident. No one else seemed to learn of the paternity tests. It was midnight and some crazy bastard was banging on the door. Sweden peeled off the arms of his Finnish lover, who was deep in sleep. Finland only snored, not waking. Walking past Ladonia and Sealand's shared room, Sweden made it downstairs in time.

The stink of vodka could be detected before the door was open. This meant it was Poland, Belarus, or Russia. Finland was automatically eliminated since he was sleeping upstairs. Sweden was correct. Opening the door, a ludicrously drunk Russia was in the door way. He wasn't making a lot of sense, his ash blonde hair wilted and greasy. The man was a mess in general.

“What are you doing here?” Sweden asked while squinting, his glasses still upstairs. Everything was blurry, but still had enough form to run by.

“All I ever wanted was a Papa. You know. Someone to tuck me in a bed when I was little.” Russia slurred in Finnish, absolutely wasted. There was a visible trail of empty vodka bottles leading up to the door.

“What?” Sweden was damn terrible with Finnish, despite his choice of life partners. The language was like strangling a cat.

Just like that, Russia fell over and passed out on the floor. Sweden shook his head and dragged the poor bastard to the couch. The coat and boots were peeled off carefully. At least five weapons fell out in the process. Hauling Russia's drunk ass off the floor was quite a task. Sweden almost couldn't manage it.

Not sure what to do with the guy, The blonde swede tucked in his new guest with a fluffy blanket. After, he decided to leave a glass of water and a throw-up bucket as all. Locking up the house again, he headed to bed. It was too early in the morning for this shit.


End file.
